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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25911979">I Can Do Tame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/get_ghosty/pseuds/get_ghosty'>get_ghosty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Because of Reasons, But only a bit, Lucio (The Arcana) Is A Little Shit, M/M, Out of Character, SET ME ON FIRE, Some Plot, Top Lucio (The Arcana), au where the plague is golden and is barely even a plague because of what it does</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:40:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25911979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/get_ghosty/pseuds/get_ghosty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a plague of senseless actions consumes a man, and another man falls into a trap.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucio/Valerius (The Arcana)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Wind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>             </p><p>
  <span>Valerius set the paper down upon the long, hard surface of the table, his palm pressing it firmly, and stiffly, down upon the solid top. His eyebrows knitted together, and he bit the inside of his lip, so that one could barely see the action if they were looking on, and glued his eyelids shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, silently, and opened his eyes again. He didn’t know the time. He knew it was</span>
  <em>
    <span> a</span>
  </em>
  <span> time, but he didn’t quite bother with finding out. Better to believe that the night had just barely begun than to be faced with the reality of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was good at that. He had to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced down at the paper, its fibers running through it, the patterns almost visible. He’d probably pass out if he had to find a solution to another desolate issue that no one else would even dignify with a fleeting thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, he kept on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about venturing out of the room and finding a bottle of wine, but did not. It had never been an issue for him, drinking on the job, but he was always on the job, and he was beginning to feel as though the alcohol had become his entire personality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, not his </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire</span>
  </em>
  <span> personality. Everyone knew he was a drunk, but he was also known as gossipy, power-hungry, and the only goddamn person in this place who did anything for the benefit of Vesuvia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the exception of Nadia, of course. But Nadia had been incapacitated, for the past week, and no one knew just how long this affliction would last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truly, he didn’t even know what it was that had her sick in the first place. Though, and it might just be a trick of the light, he had seemed to notice streaks of gold entering her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio had, as a result of this, become much, much more unbearable. Perhaps it is true that love is the thick rope tying the boat to the dock. It would make sense, and if it was true, Lucio was already right in the middle of a planet of ocean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up the writing utensil there by his side, feeling its hardness with the pads of his fingers, then pressed it down upon the parchment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light scratching filled the room, and the sound which used to calm Valerius down, only made him tenser, and he had the distinct sense that his back was stiff, and only becoming more so with each moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he wrote, his ring finger and pinky twitched, quickly, and strangely, and it almost hurt. This paused him in his task, the thin object standing still, the point barely lifting above the paper, and tsked at himself, the corner of his mouth curling into a momentary scowl, and he pressed it back down again, and the scratching continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small whistle of wind seemed almost to caress the window from its place upon the wall, and only his eyes moved at this, flicking up to the glass. It stopped. His eyes snapped back to his work, and he continued, picking up his pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It came again, louder this time, and he repeated the course of looking at it, this time glaring daggers at it, and his look stayed there, until once again it silenced, and he returned to what he was doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again. Louder. Too loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at his window again, and this time it did not stop, and simply grew louder and louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot out of his seat, the chair pushing back and falling over on its side. “Just shut up, shut up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had yelled. He had been too loud. Much too loud. The wind had stopped though, and he went over and picked up the chair, collapsing upon it, not bothering to pull it up closer to the desk, and he rested his elbows on his thighs, clutching his face in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent. He stayed in this position for a while, doing nothing, his eyes closed tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped no one had heard him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, straightening himself out, and slowly moving into a more elegant position, then slowly moved the chair up to the desk. He looked back down at the paper, picked up the utensil, and all of a sudden, the light scratching began again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate wind,” he mumbled, somewhere beneath his breath.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A scene at breakfast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The smallest bit of light fell into the room, making his hair glow with the haloes of beams upon it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes fluttered open, and his ears perked, though his face did not move, when he thought he heard music coming vaguely from somewhere. What is that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head rose from the hard surface, and he looked around himself. His vision was a bit blurry, but he knew with a bit of time it would be as it always was. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep at his desk. How unseemly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a crick in his neck, he realized, and his back was a thousand times stiffer than it had been the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly, he undid his braid, and threaded it again, so that it was neat, and trim, as he needed it to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to change. He did so with as much pace as he could muster. He didn’t know just how far into morning it was, and he would not take any risks in regards to time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever music he had been hearing, he realized, was gone. Perhaps it was his own personal illusion. Though, he mused, it had been pleasant to awake with the pleasant and billowing symphonies of strings, however quiet and estranged they might have been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smooths the front of his clothing, and walks out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Outside, in the hall, he saw Melchior, staring at him, a few paces down, tucked against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius does not move. He stands there, and looks at the dog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you just going to sit there?” he asks. Strangely out of character for the animal, he decided, to sit still in company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They seemed almost, to stare each other down, though for Melchior’s part, his gaze was not a piercing one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Is that all you’re going to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dog was still, for a few moments, before it stood on its legs, and turned away from him, padding down the hall gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This, of course, came as a surprise to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, then. Good boy, I suppose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dog turned left and was out of sight. Valerius shook this out of himself, then began an even, yet quick pace down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vast expanse of the dining room came into his view. It was, actually, quiet, and empty. Except of course, for one man, sitting at the head of the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Count Lucio,” he addressed him, before flitting his eyes to the plate of food sitting in front of the blonde man, and then to the second plate of food in the empty seat on the right, closest to the head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. Several surprises were in store for him, it seemed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The reply was short, and sharp. Lucio made a vague notion to the chair beside him, and Valerius came to it, watching the other man closely, and gently sat down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is all of this?” he asks, a hesitant caution lining his tone, though, the smallest bit of curiosity seeped into the syllables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was an empty wine glass beside the plate, and as though from nowhere, a servant came and poured the liquid into it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed that he was grateful for the meal, in the least, for he hadn’t expected it to be there at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked to Lucio once again. The count was looking in his eyes. Valerius turned this over in his head. He didn’t know what he was meant to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he gazed down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, that was it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your new outfit is a beauty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, do you really think so? I just had it done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The count had simply wanted an ego boost, then. His guess had been right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps not enough gold?” Valerius suggested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>`The wide grin that had split across Lucio’s face seemed to fade a bit, and he rested his chin upon his knuckles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never enough gold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius knew he would say that. He always said that. Not that the consul didn’t find it endearing. He did. He would just never admit it to anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The outfit in question was not anything special, and in fact, it seemed an almost exact replica of an outfit he had worn several weeks ago, save that the colors were switched around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers came down to the wine glass, since neglected, and he raised it gently to his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The taste was a beautiful melody, and he was the fragile violin it was played on. He pulled the glass away from his mouth and swirled it around for a few seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost tastes like almond, he thought to himself. Strange.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has Nadia’s condition improved?” asked Valerius, his eyes tearing away from the wine and going to Lucio. He was torn between what answer he wanted to come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio sighed and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, she grows weaker every moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strange,” Valerius began, running the sharp tip of his finger over the rim of the wine glass, staring deep at it, in thought, “she was never one to fall prey to sickness. Though, I suppose, no one is immune. Everyone has a breaking point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We attract what we fear,” Lucio says, looking vaguely at the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius turned his head to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you well?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio smiled a tightly-strung sort of smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. Never been better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius mulled this over in his head. He knew Lucio was not as attached to Nadia as one would expect him to be. Though, to be fair to him, Nadia was not very attached to him either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had a heart, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a second, Valerius thought he saw something vaguely like a fly, pass by in a bright golden streak. He blinked a few times, and saw nothing. Somewhere though, for just a moment, he could have sworn he heard buzzing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me to town, Val.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyebrows shot up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My time is full with the work of a kingdom, Lucio, I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio scowled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All you ever do is work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius stood up, his finger only barely lingering on the hard surface, and he looked down at Lucio and said, “one cannot complain of me spending all my time working if one does nothing but shunt his responsibilities.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio looked up at him, and he stayed silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I have lingered too long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved to leave, then stopped, turned back to the table, and grasped the almost full wine glass in his left hand, then turned to leave again. No use in wasting it, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m planning a party.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius did not turn to him, and instead addressed the count, his back meeting his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A party, eh? Will there be a thousand people, or are we going for a cool two thousand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a party, then, so much as a gathering.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Valerius’ ears could have turned upwards, they would have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A gathering? The word itself is exceptionally tame for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, well, I thought perhaps it was time for a bit of tame.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His right eyebrow raised, and he smiled, a small, tiny, smile. He could do tame.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Golden Fly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He knocked on the door gently. A simple double tap with his index and middle finger’s knuckles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hollow voice resounded from behind the door, muttering a vague, “enter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had had his problems with the countess before, this one could not deny, but that did not mean he was heartless. When one was bedridden, it was the duty of their friends to make sure they were faring well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, he supposed, they could be friends. Anyone could be friends with anyone else if they were on what might well be their deathbed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about Nadia dying. Especially not to sickness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He always thought that if she did go, she would go blazing, and serving and protecting her people until the very end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He came into the room slowly, turning and closing the door behind him gently. The room was silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nadia was in her bed. She wore, of course, bedclothes. They were sleek and elegant, as everything tended to be with Nadia. No sickness would change that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to admire her, in that way. There weren’t many he could say the same about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He realized then, that he hadn’t brought anything for her. Maybe something so simple as a glass of hot water would have been better than pure nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, consul,” she says, the stress this places upon her throat evident in the sound, “I wasn’t expecting you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her striking purple hair was back in a ponytail, and splayed about over the soft fabric. It provided a pleasant contrast, though in some ways, this very same contrast almost made it blend with its surroundings. Strange, that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even sickness can dampen your beauty,” he says, unsure of what had brought him to these words. He was sure that he meant it, but he wasn’t sure if he had even meant to mean it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles, the features poising into that wonderful, slim and elegant rising of the mouth. Illness could not dampen her smile either, it seemed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, sit,” she says, gesturing to the wooden chair splayed in the corner of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He approached it, and grabbed it, bringing it up and placing it by the side of the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that it was probably not the best idea to get so close to Nadia, in the case that her sickness was contagious, but some little thing inside of him told him that it would be alright, and he wanted to listen to it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I worry for you, countess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked into his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need not worry, Valerius.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He averted his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I should not be. I know of your strength, physical, and mental, but still I cannot feel at ease.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is incredibly unlike you, Consul. Perhaps I should be the one worried about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucio tells me you grow weaker all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scoffs and turns her stare away from him, towards the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would not concern yourself with what Lucio says. I am telling you there is nothing for you to fear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is talk that-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not speak to me of the talk of the court.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius looked down at the floor for a few moments, lost in a dozen thoughts all at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not say anything then, as he looks to her eyes, after being struck with something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes, and saw that it was undeniable. There was gold there, cracks of gold throughout the whites of his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not mention this to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you certainly are not speaking like one deathly ill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughs, a terrible, throaty laugh, shrouded by strain. It sounded like it hurt her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder why,” she says, finally looking back to meet his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed, a low, vibrating hum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes once again, though this time because he had had a thought. If she died, he thought, he would finally get to rule. It was only a matter of time before the rashness and incompetence of Lucio caught up to him, and no one could stop his ascent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was terrible to think such a thing over the gasping body of a possibly dying friend, but he couldn’t stop it from penetrating his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head softly. He had to stop it. He disgusted himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are things with the kingdom?” she asks, “none of the people coming through ever tell me of these matters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flipped this around in his head for a moment or two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Things are about as they’ve always been.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was not a lie. Things were not very good, to say the least, but things had never been very good. Comes from placing the entirety of a kingdom upon the shoulders of a single person.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps she caught on that this was not necessarily a good thing, and she let a hint of this slip through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It cannot be easy for you, Valerius, all of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was something smug in this as well, and the consul was not sure how much he appreciated that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It must not have been easy for you either,” he says. A simple response, a safe one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sharp streak of wind began to whistle at the window in the room, and a sharp sense of irritation filled him. Gods, it was almost like that wind followed him everywhere just to torture him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nadia glanced over at the glass window, and then to his anger-stricken face. He wondered if she knew exactly the reason why he was angry. Of course, it would be incredibly strange if she did, impossible even, but she always gave off the strong sense that she knew everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, a glint off of something caught his eye, and he followed the moving, shiny thing in its strange, spiraling path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A golden fly, like before, only this time, he could see it clearly, and the buzzing sound was much more muted, much quieter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched as it landed gently on Nadia’s exposed neck, and stayed there, incredibly still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked to her eyes. Did she know about it there, on her flesh?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cracks in the whites of her eyes seemed to glow, and to spread, slowly, and yet too fast, and Valerius had a strong urge to pull back from his place beside the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nadia!” he whispered, his tone urgent, and so silent still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she did not respond. The gold was spreading and he felt if he had to look at it again, he would be nauseated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up quickly, the chair scooting back swiftly from the force that came from him, and without a word, he rushed to the door, and left, accidentally closing it behind him a little too hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pressed his back up against the surface of it, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. He tried to focus on those, in and out, and in and out, but it didn’t help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his eyes, and looked straight ahead of himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some wine couldn’t hurt.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The hours after</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Night had come, and once again, Valerius found himself loaded down. Sometimes, he imagined the sheer strength of mind and body that the countess must have possessed to continue on in the way that she had for so long. The consul could barely handle this, and it seemed that with each passing word read and every command given and every solution he forged, he lost another day from the end of his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps though, that was normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps, Nadia experienced this for years, and perhaps she felt that these days taken from her did not matter if they could be given to her people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gods, the people. It was so much easier to complain of the stress if you forgot that there were real, breathing people relying on you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t built for that, for being the bare-backed man pulling the wooden panel covered in the dying bodies of others by a thick, heavy rope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His bedclothes were loose, and flowing. Silky, and neutral in color. It came in at the slightest around the waist, and billowed out at the chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ends of it swayed as he turned quickly and evenly towards the large windowed doors in his room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thin, silky slippers lightly tapping on the floor as he performed trim strides to them. His hands came up to the slick, cool handles, and they lingered there, barely touching the surface with the tips of their fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the hands grasped the handles, and in a second, the doors came open with a flourish, a blast of wind spiraling into the room, and bringing the fabric of his clothing in a million directions, held down only by its connection to itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His left hand came up to the exposed flesh of his chest, touching it only with the soft pads, and his other hand came out in front of him, and eventually came to rest down upon the railing of the balcony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A slew of crickets from somewhere below made noise, a strange, peaceful melody that crickets had come to be so well-known for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Normally, he despised the sound, but tonight, it did not bother him very much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, and sighed, the air coming from every crevice in his body, emptying it. The sound of it was barely there, but  barely there was still there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head slumped down, and he felt the light, night breeze on the skin of his scalp and his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barely moving his head, he undid the ribbon keeping his braid together, the sound of the thin strip of fabric rubbing over itself entering his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his hand back through his hair, the long, ethereal body of it separating, some coming up over his shoulders, over the balcony, and the rest laying upon his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes opened gently then, and he turned his head up to the sky, the empty expanse. A stray strand of hair tickled his face, but he did not move to place it somewhere else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up, at the dark sky, not quite black and yet not quite gray. He couldn’t see a single star, and yet it seemed that the night sky was full of them. A crisp chill tugged at his exposed hands, and the faint smell of smoke arose from somewhere in the array of the surrounding city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed to him, at that moment, that he finally felt alright. That this was where he was meant to be, and nothing was wrong because he was there, at that second, looking up. That is how the world is supposed to be, and that is how it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, there came to him a new noise. He did not move his gaze, thinking that the pair of footsteps belonged simply to some informant, telling him he was needed. No, he would prolong this moment for as long as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio came to his side, putting both of his hands on the railing, and looking out over the horizon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius recognized the count from the flash of the familiar blonde shade of hair that had passed through his peripheral.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still looking up, he said, “I didn’t hear you enter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio turns his gaze to him, for only a moment, then away again, and says, “I’d be surprised if you could hear anything at all with all this noise out here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before saying, “they’re just crickets, Lucio.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blonde man was silent at this, cocking his head just a bit, and pursing his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were noisy, Valerius noted, but not enough to be loud. He hadn’t really thought about it beforehand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their shared quiet brought the consul to thinking about Nadia. He had kept the thought of her out of his mind as much as he could in the hours that it had been since their interaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t been to see her yet,” he said, finally moving his head, and turning it fully to Lucio. He wished it could have been a question, but he knew even before the other man had answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” He did not meet the gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” he asked, his eyes searching Lucio’s face for the smallest change in expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the longest time, he did not answer the consul’s question. Finally, perhaps because of the unrelenting stare of Valerius, or perhaps because he had just finished mulling it over, he said, “I don’t think I could bear it, seeing her like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weak, you mean? Trapped in the confines of her own body?” he questioned, looking upwards once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” the count replied, “the invincible goddess is finally brought down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To kill what cannot be killed is the only true horror of our age,” Valerius said, a strange, mellow sort of sorrow laced in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She hasn’t been killed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but the image of her has.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strange, isn’t it? That the thing that tipped the scales out of her favor was something she had no control over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause before Valerius answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made eye contact in the silence that followed. Lucio gently closed the space between them, and held the consul’s shoulders, pressing their lips together softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius pulled back quickly, and his eyes followed the single tear, falling down upon the count’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio averted his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, Valerius approached him, and pulled his face to his, and they shared another sweet, light kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s getting late,” the consul says, “I must retire soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to walk back into the room, and Lucio’s voice came from behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I join you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius did not answer immediately, thinking about his answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” he says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night of cold seemed to them incredibly warm as they slept peacefully in each other’s arms.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter is definitely an improvement to the previous three. I'd ask you to bear with me as this progresses, as this is all a learning experience for me. Writing fanfiction is a lot harder for me than writing anything original, and it shows.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Proves Fatal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sun always came into the room just perfectly, pouring over the desk and the bed and the armchair where Valerius did most of his reading. It poured over the lettering on the spines of the books upon the shelves, and it poured onto the consul’s face, as it always did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warm feeling of it on his skin brought him to open his eyes, and he finds himself staring at the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was on his side, and Lucio’s toned arm was draped over the curve of his torso, clinging to him gently, and connecting the two bodies together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His other arm was tangled in the consul’s hair, every once in a while twitching a bit and causing a funny sensation on his scalp, that made him want to lean into the touch. Or he would have leaned into it, if it had been intentional.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not want to move from this spot. It was warm, so warm, and the feeling of Lucio’s form through the thin fabric of his bedclothes was so soft, and addicting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In these moments, he felt like the true home he had never had as a child was finally given to him, here between the arms of this man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He backed up once again, just a little, so that he was deeper in the arms of the man who held him in his embrace. The man with love in his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last movement from Valerius must have been too much, for he felt the body behind him begin to stir.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt distinctly the count’s breathing on his skin as Lucio brought his face to the dip between the consul’s neck and shoulders. The soft skin there felt incredible as his lips trembled above it, just barely touching it, and yet touching it enough still to make Valerius quiver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your skin is glowing,” the blonde man said, the sweet comment mumbled appreciatively, each syllable being felt by the other on his flesh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius hummed just a little, closing his eyes and allowing the contact freely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gorgeous,” he says, finally closing the small pocket of space between his mouth and the neck, kissing it gently and planting a few more in different spots all along it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so pretty,” he said in between the kisses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius shifted his head a bit, exposing his neck a bit more. He was surprised at this mood that Lucio was in. Especially considering they had done nothing but slept in the same bed. Perhaps he was just in need of affection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your lips are so soft,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The count smiled against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pillowy,” Valerius mumbled afterwards, almost unconsciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio pulled away for a second, in thought, and then returned again. He began to nip and suck at the skin, and Valerius gasped a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” he managed to ask, between the several little sharp intakes of air he took involuntarily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Testing a theory,” he says, finally stopping this action, and putting one last little kiss on the mark on the consul’s pale skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got to get up,” he says, “I have work to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio removes his hold on the man, moving back a bit, so that Valerius could shift enough to sit on the edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul does just that, before standing up and moving over to the desk, bending down and opening the second drawer to the bottom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside was a brush for his hair. He picked it up with practiced ease, and came back to sit on the edge of the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did this mainly for Lucio’s sake, that he wouldn’t simply have to watch on as Valerius brushed his hair across the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved his hands so that he could place all the hair that had come over his shoulders back behind him, and before he did anything else, he could feel the count twirling a section of it with his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave it down today,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius paused what he was doing and turned himself to look at Lucio.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t leave it down,” he said, “it’s incredibly undignified.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls his hand away and shrugs, “just a thought.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, when Valerius looks away, and just begins to put the brush to the tips of his hair, so that he could work his way up little by little, Lucio’s hand reaches out and clasps the hand holding the object.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me,” he says, and the consul’s hand releases the object at these words, letting the blonde man take it with ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He begins working on the ends, taking extra care not to hurt Valerius, or to tug the hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a bit of this, one of Lucio’s hands began to run along the side of his torso, following the curve of the body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, it moved away from this spot. The bedclothes were loose, and were hanging down low, exposing much of the sculpted back, and chest, though he couldn’t see it from his point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers came to the back, tracing little patterns upon it, before his palm came down as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The coolness of his hand made Valerius shiver just a little, and his eyebrows knitted together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The brushing had slowed down a bit, as his hand came lower and lower upon his back, before finally dipping beneath the fabric.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It came finally to the soft, round flesh that the consul had hoped it wouldn’t come to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He caressed it gently, before cupping it, and squeezing it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius jumped up off the bed, and turned to look at the count.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes flicking back and forth between each of the count’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widened, and the hand holding the brush fell limp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, before coming closer to the bed, and picking the brush out of Lucio’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t thinking,” he said, “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you weren’t thinking, you never think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valerius?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned away from him and picked up his clothes, pulling it back over his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want to be with me,” he said, “you just can’t be with Nadia, and you want me to hold you over until you can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio looks away from his form, then, looking instead to his side, on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s best you go,” Valerius said, without moving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blonde man stood up and gathered his top, discarded upon the floor without a thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t been wearing his usual dramatic outfits, simply because it had been so late when he had come the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of putting it on, however, he walked simply to the door, and exited, shirtless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul’s eyes followed him, until he closed the door behind himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a short pause, he begins to brush his own hair. He began to think about how much nicer it had been in the minutes where Lucio had been doing it, feeling him there, behind him, emanating heat, and every once in awhile causing little tingling sensations when the strands began to pull.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would have been nice to let him continue, but he knew no good could come of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would not let his judgment waver on this matter, however.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He begins to hum a tune that his mother had sung to him in his youth, as his strokes grew longer and longer, and finally began to sing the lyrics, though it was only the ending line of the song, “the sand in the wound proves fatal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lyrics had never been bright, dark, as were most of his early years, but the tune was lovely on its own, and sometimes he sang it just to make sure he remembered it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got dressed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Liquid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Valerius’s shoes tapped upon the floor as he walked down the hallway which he had walked down a million times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite himself, he had indeed left his hair down for the day, and with each step he took, it moved behind him, in little swaying motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no surprise sighting of either of the dogs in the hallway this morning, and he was grateful. He wasn’t thinking about Lucio then, or he was trying not to, and it was nothing but helpful that Lucio’s faithful animal companions didn’t show up before his door again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He supposed though, that he must’ve been thinking about Lucio a bit, or he wouldn’t have left his hair down, and would’ve put it into its braid, like always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought that he should be allowed this freedom, simply for the day. He hadn’t seen the rest of the court in a while, though he wasn’t sure why, and he was more than sure that the only person he would be seeing that day would be the count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, a cold, wet spot appeared on his nose. He stopped in his tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the devil is that?” he asked himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought his hand up to his face, and touched the spot with two of his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled them away and looked to see what was on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widened. There, on both of his fingers, was a bright, gold liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped, much louder than he’d meant to, and dropped his hand. He looked up to the ceiling, and there upon it, was a striking, glowing, bright gold crack, and in it, another drop of the liquid was beginning to form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to think. He was thinking a million incoherent little thoughts all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings the hand up once again, and wipes away the remaining liquid from his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a mental note of this, and, as he begins walking again, he can’t help the small quiver that runs through his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins to navigate the building, making his way to the dining room as he had always done, as he did every morning, and every afternoon, and every night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could’ve made the journey with his eyes closed, or half asleep, or blackout drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he made it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The table came into his view, and his eyes widened for the second time in the past few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, sitting at the head of the table, was not Lucio, as it normally was. Instead, sat elegantly, perfectly poised, was countess Nadia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fork in her hand was moving in that noble, circular way that Nadia had of moving her hands, but something was off about it that Valerius couldn’t quite place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost seemed that her movements today were not quite as flawless as they had been before, though, it might just have been that it had been so long since he had last seen her eat that he had had a parodied memory of it. And, perhaps as well, it could have been that her sickness had caused her to change this part of herself unintentionally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He approached the table with a certain hesitation, stemming from a mix of curiosity and confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio was sitting two seats down from Nadia. He was staring at Valerius as he came in, his eyes full of something resembling the same things the consul was feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Countess,” he said, bowing his head a little, before pulling the chair out from beneath the table, and sitting down upon it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consul Valerius, so nice of you to join us,” she said to him, her eyes flicking up to see him, before returning quickly to the action at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the second which she had looked to him, he had taken care to notice that the gold had spread past the sclera of her eye, and had instead filled every inch of space, taking over all the colors and parts of the eye, so that it was simply a bright, glowing, gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something wrong with her voice as well. It was higher, higher than it had been before. She sounded young. 18, maybe, or 19 or even 20.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up the fork and shot it through one of the colorful morsels upon the plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’ve come when you have,” she said, “I need to speak to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you have me. You may speak to me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused, and her eyes came up to glare at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not take that tone with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent. Strange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of your work will be immediately transferred over to me. You need not concern yourself with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hair,” she commented, “it’s loose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like it,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand came unconsciously to his hair. A strand of it had come up over his shoulder, and this was what he held between his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped his hand and picked up the fork again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a shared quiet for a long while. Valerius looked up to Lucio, who had not said a word yet, and was instead staring unmovingly at Nadia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely not all of it,” Valerius said silently, a tinge of something brewing in it, looking straight into her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His elbows came up to the table, and his hands rested firmly on the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nadia, you can’t possibly handle all of that yourself. Surely, I’ve proved that I’m more than ready to hold more responsibility. And was it not you that complained of how useless the court was? Finally I have made use of myself, and you’re telling me I can’t do anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not mouth off at me like this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoots up, her glowing, golden eyes growing only brighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not believe that I cannot handle this myself, you impudent fool. I will not stand for your vain declarations any longer, as I have done in the past. You hold no power over me, and you would do well to remember that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drops his fork with a clatter and stares up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B- but, you can’t do this to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not done anything to you! I have been nothing but gracious! Allowing you to stay in this court was an act of mercy and poor judgement on my part, and I will not hesitate to throw you out of Vesuvia for your scheming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She begins to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nowhere that should concern you. None of my actions will concern you anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am part of your court, it is my job to concern myself with your actions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not respond, and instead walked simply out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius pressed his lips tightly together, and scowled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes turned to Lucio.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh yeah, this is big brain time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lucio and the Other</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Their stare was unbreakable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio was frowning deeper than Valerius had ever seen him frown before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tension in the room was solid, and thick, yet dripping and malleable like a block of melting butter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius finally turned his eyes away, and looked down at the plate of food. He picked up the fork that had been teetering on the edge of the plate and the table, and began to eat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He refused to look up again, instead bringing the bite to his mouth, chewing it with a terrible determination, and with a strange sort of scowl on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyebrows were knitted impossibly close together, turned downwards in the manner so cliche to anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the silence was broken when Lucio’s voice resounded out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like your hair. I’m glad you decided to wear it down after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul’s entire body froze, jerked into a stiff position. His eyes shot up to then meet Lucio’s, a terrible, fury-filled gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that all you have to say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio did not respond to this, doing nothing but angering Valerius even more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nadia has just come off of her deathbed, made a complete recovery out of nowhere, and come to breakfast, perfectly fine, with her eyes glowing, and all you have to say is that you like my hair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The count mumbled beneath his breath, “I just wanted to make you feel better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius went to respond, but hearing this, his gaze softened ever so slightly, and his scowl came undone, and he was silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>These words were quiet, but audible to the count nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio smiled, and leaned back in his chair. “Besides,” he said, looking to the side and popping a grape into his mouth, “she almost has a point. You did have power over Vesuvia before, and it wasn’t her fault that you chose to do nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul’s eyebrows shot up, and then knitted together once again. He set his fork down on the plate, and brought his hands up to his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He allowed his face to simply rest there, behind his hands, his head trembling with anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been his fault, that for a moment, again, he had allowed himself to believe that Lucio wasn’t all that bad. He had wanted to believe that he wasn’t that bad. Perhaps, it was just that Lucio didn’t understand the offense of his words. Perhaps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, his hands dropped, and his eyes were liquid fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet, his words came out quietly, and even, though teeming with malice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what of you, oh dear majesty? The count whose only accomplishment is getting a million people drunk on his birthday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People love my parties!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should hope so, since that’s the only thing you’re good for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what do you do? Get drunk and let the servants fuck you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have been the only thing keeping Vesuvia together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You clearly didn’t matter enough to keep around for very long though, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius was silent at this. He looked down to his plate. His lip almost began to tremble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing else to say? Nadia has just come off of her deathbed, made a complete recovery out of nowhere, and come to breakfast, perfectly fine, with her eyes glowing, and you have nothing else to say?” he mocks, a terrible vindictive tone to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t understand,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio glares down at him. “I never understand anything. Isn’t that what you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he says, still looking downwards, eyes becoming even more focused, “you don’t understand what it’s like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me,” the count seethes, “tell me what I don’t understand!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t understand what it’s like to taste that power, and then to have it stripped from you all at once. And, all of a sudden, you’re nothing again. You’ve always been nothing. I’ve always been nothing. But I wasn’t, for the briefest second. The best second of my entire life. The only one that mattered. And now I have to accept that all the other seconds that come after it are going to be worthless. All of a sudden, I’m worthless again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valerius…” the sound trails off, as he tries to catch the consul’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And all of a sudden I’m cold, and naked, and the winter begins to bite my flesh, and I can barely move. And, soon, the snow builds up around me, and I’m not there anymore. I’m buried beneath the snow,” he murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands up. Lucio does the same. He moves to the consul, and embraces the man, warmly, tightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t have said all of those things. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He places his hand on the small of his back, caressing it lightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a silence, in which the consul’s stiff body does not move an inch, and Lucio simply holds him, his hand moving over his form.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, Valerius pushes him away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off me,” he says as he does it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius begins to walk away. He had had enough of breakfast, enough of Lucio, and more than enough of Nadia. He couldn’t take another second of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valerius!” the count calls from behind him, but he does not stop. He continues in his pace, until finally, after a daze of thoughts and pictures, he has made it back to his room, and shut the door quickly behind him with an unexpected force.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His back falls against the door, and he slides down it. He hadn’t wanted to feel so much about this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat down, bringing his legs up as close to his chest as he could without needing an arm around them to keep them there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His  hands were trembling as he brought them up to his scalp, and quickly and furiously ran them through his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did this time and time again. Too hard, too hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not cry. He would never cry.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Listen Lucio may be an ass right now but this isn't anywhere close just.<br/>I feel like I'm posting too much in one day. Should I hold off, maybe spread out the posting a bit more?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The thrills of cheap liquor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A set of stairs lead down into a big, cavernous cellar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was these stairs that Valerius came stumbling down. His hair was a mess, and the laces holding the dark beige part of his robe were loose, and unevenly tied. He didn’t remember how that had happened, but it must have happened at some time or other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the wine cellar which he was coming to now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, his feet, which had lost their coverings somewhere in the trek from his rooms to here, found the ground of the cellar itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved between the two shelves that the stairs led out into first, and he perused over all the bottles, pulling some out every once in a while to read the labels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t have anything particular in mind as he searched. He wasn’t thinking about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He prided himself on his taste in wine, on everything that he knew about it, the stores of knowledge of it in his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew this was not something he should probably be proud of, but he didn’t have much to be proud of in the first place, and he was willing to take what he could get.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, he loved high-quality wine, but for the mood that he was in right now, one could only find true comfort in the thrills of cheap liquor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scowls as he pulls out more bottles, moving between shelves continuously, at one point, not putting the bottles back anymore, and instead just putting them on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he found the bottle which he had been looking for. It was the cheapest thing to be found in the cellar of the palace, and he would love every sip of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grasped it firmly by the neck, and walked back near the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at the extra wine glasses which were kept down there, by the door, a few dozen, and then down at the wine bottle in his hand, and then once again, to the glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t take one. Instead, he walked messily, stumbling up the stairs once again, finding it much more difficult to travel up them than down them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had a plan in his head, slowly forming with the seconds, though his mind was groggy with the terrible feelings that had taken over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to make first, before he did another thing, a trip to his chambers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He entered the room, not bothering to close the door behind him, and set the bottle carelessly on the bed. It wasn’t open yet, so this didn’t matter to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First, he takes the shawl off from around his shoulders, setting it down carelessly as well, by the glass container.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, his fingers fumble around messily with the knot holding the dark beige section of cloth together, slowly trying to untie the golden laces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he got it undone, and slid it off, so that he was only in the thin, flowing white robe he had worn so long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks on the floor for his shoes. He had had shoes on before, but he didn’t know where they had one. No matter, there were always more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slipped his feet into the nearest pair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He considered putting a white hood on over the robe, one made of the same fabric, and of the same color.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, he thinks, let the people talk if they will.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picks up the wine bottle, and goes to exit the room. Then, he stops, and turns around. He would need plenty of gold, may that he finished all of his wine, and he happened to hunger for more alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had a small sack prepared, and he grasped it quickly, with his empty hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He exited the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This path was not one so familiar to him as the one to the dining room. No, this time, he was headed to the front door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The front room was beautiful, as all of the rooms were, but he wasn’t quite invested in the decor or the color of anything, or the patterns on the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door leading out came closer and closer to his person, until he was so close he could practically taste the air of the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was until, he heard a voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped in his tracks, but did not turn around. He recognized that voice all too well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Portia. I haven’t seen you around in a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She put her hand on her waist and gave him a pointed look, though she knew he couldn’t see it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew her well enough to know that she was doing this, however, and he continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going out, to the city. It’s not like I have anything else to be doing, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She noticed then the bottle of wine in his hand, and the sack in the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what are you going to the city to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lord, Portia. Can I not simply want to go to the city that I ran?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You never do anything just because you want to. You have a plan, I know you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My only plan is to drink my heart out, and I won’t be stopped by you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m worried for you Valerius. I say this with great disdain, of course, but I’m really, really worried for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t need to be. I’m fine. I’ve always been fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Val,” she says, coming closer to him and trying to grab his hand. He jerks it away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The thing with Nadia came as a surprise to all of us. She’s not… right. It affected me too. But that’s no reason to kill yourself with liquor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why have you come to me? To stop me? How unlike you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused, and they were still, and enveloped in silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In truth, I was told to keep an eye out for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? And who told you to do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...I think you know who.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, enlighten me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucio.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scowled, and began to walk forward again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Send him my regards,” he says, before exiting finally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guards at the gate outside let him out with ease.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Stop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW; non-con/sexual abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He didn’t know when he was last out in the city. He had always locked it out, hidden away in the thick walls of the palace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed that he, much in the same way that man had spent thousands of years trying to get as far away from nature as possible, had spent his entire life working so that he would never have to see the city again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked past so many buildings, so many streets, taking swigs from his bottle with almost every other step. His hair had grown only more disheveled now with the added factor of the wind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He recalled passing by the commercial strips, little streets where all of the buildings were attached and full to the brim of colorful and attractive items, displayed out in the open to entice the random passerby to enter, for a chance to acquire one for themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were cottages of sorts, small little places, some painted and decorated with the garish and fun colors of modernity, and some left the way they had been before, dusting and graying, remnants of a time he had not been alive for, and yet so terrible faded that he could learn seldom anything about their past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, too, he passed certain parts that were overgrown with plantlife, as though the city in those small spots had ceased to exist at all, and instead there was simply the flora, and the wonderful, soothing smells that came with it. The air in these parts was just a bit crisper than in the others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This incredible clutter, all these sections and buildings, all this variety jammed into such a small place, seemed so impeccable to him. It was very much, in so far as he knew, so unique to the wondrous human species, this eclectic sweetness, and he reveled in it, in his drunken stupor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know how long he had been simply walking about, drinking, when finally, he came to the slums.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed that there was a certain beauty to the slums as well, the leaning, uneven, strangely made buildings, precariously made. Perhaps it was in its oddness that this beauty came from. A perfect building held much quality to it, but true human nature is found only in things which are flawed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His bottle was almost empty, and at some point, though he wasn’t sure when, that the sun had gone down, and night had consumed Vesuvia, and in turn, him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had begun stumbling, just a bit, every once in a while, as he had become just as tired and uneven as the buildings surrounding him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was at this time, when there were only five gulps of wine left for him to drink, that he came across a building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was dimly lit, only the smallest bit of light coming from beneath the door, and there were no windows to be seen anywhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear something, though, through the thin wooden door. Music, much too loud. The tune was jaunty, and offensive, and was played on such instruments as he could not quite place from outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels called to it. This, this must have been a tavern of some sort, he could feel it. If cheap liquor was what he wanted, this would be the best place to get it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door’s handle was a bit loose, he noted, as he took the rust-hewn piece of metal into his sculpted fingers. His hand took a few tries to grasp it fully, as he had barely looked at it while he was trying to grab it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he turned it, and swung the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped in, somehow managing to close the door behind him with something resembling ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The place was decently full of people, customers. All of them were just as jaunty and offensive as the music, though some almost more, and, he noted the fact that all of them were men.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets a few stares, but he doesn’t notice them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze instead, was focused on a large cushion, held by wood, making it into a couch of sorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was large, and empty, there almost in the corner of the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without giving it much thought, he comes to it, and collapses upon it, putting his lips back to the open neck of the wine bottle, chugging instantly the remaining alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His arm drops down, and he lets the glass container fall to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fabric of the cushions beneath him stiff, and unyielding, barely dipping beneath his weight. He looked down to it now, finally examining it, now that he had nothing else to drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He noticed there were dark stains upon it, much too frequently, and uneven coloring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to think about what that was. He pushed his back farther against the cushions, leaning too far to the left, the red wine staining his lips with its tint, and putting blush upon his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere, from the daze, he noticed a man, who had been staring at him for too long, begin to approach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he gets close, Valerius sees him for what he was. He was roughly-hewn, and oily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the man could speak, as he stood in front of the consul, Valerius pressed his sack of gold into his hand, and said, “fetch for me whatever will get me drunk the fastest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know exactly how long it was before the man returned with two large, tall bottles, full of something that held a dark, dusty blue color.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes the bottles from him, setting one on the floor, and opening the other one immediately, taking as large of a drink as he could before he had to part it from his mouth and take a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man sits down next to him, putting his thick arm around the consul’s shoulder. Too close for comfort, much too close for comfort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you live near here?” the man asks, looking down at Valerius’s form, barely in his grasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He parts the cool, glass bottle from his lips for a second and manages to mumble, “no, not near,” before putting it back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man hums in that deep, gruff tone that he had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this your first time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius pulls the bottle away from his mouth once again to answer the question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time he does not replace it immediately, waiting to see if he’d be asked another insufferable question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man simply stared at him, though, and did not move to speak again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius did not mind the arm around him, and in fact, he barely even noticed it. He was so glad the man had stopped talking to him. He just wanted to drink, to feel that thick, fiery liquid enter his throat, sliding down too smoothly to be real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, drink he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was dizzy, lost in himself. He forgot where he was, what he was doing, all he knew was the alcohol entering him, and that he didn’t want it to stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bottle was empty, and he made small sounds of protest. He dropped the empty container, and his hand groped around on the cushion for the other one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point, the bottle was just there, in his hand. Perhaps it was handed to him. He didn’t think on that too long. He smiled, or he thought that he did. He couldn’t tell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He popped open the bottle, and he began to drink this one as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until the large bottle was halfway empty that he finally took pause in his actions. He held it in his lap, but all of a sudden, he didn’t want to be holding it anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone took it from him. It was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body felt weak, and he felt thin, so thin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With nothing to occupy his thoughts anymore, he tried to pay more attention to his surroundings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt a terrible heat around his shoulders, and he felt that it must have been the arm that he vaguely remembered was there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The arm’s embrace tightened, and he was brought closer to the man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brings his free hand out to tug on his long hair, after pushing it out of the way of his neck, which he stuck his face into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His kisses were too rough, his bites too hard, and the tugging on his hair was too hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius pulled back from him, moving away as far as he could, to separate himself from the man’s touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the bites on his neck had been hard enough to draw blood, and he felt the open flesh slide against itself as he retreated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could not come free of the wretched arm, however, and the man let out something resembling a growl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shoved him down on the cushions, one large, strong hand pinning his wrists above his head. He straddled Valerius, putting all of his weight on top of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul tried to fight this. He writhed around as much as he could, with all that pressure against his body, but his dazed state made it almost impossible for him to do anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew this wouldn’t work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched on, helplessly, as the man pulled out a small knife. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so scared, so incredibly scared when he saw the shine of the metal, the terrible way that it glinted in the light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man began to rip the fabric of the robe with the weapon, the only thing keeping him covered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t cry. He never cried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sharp edge of the knife grazed his pert nipple too heavily, and he hissed at the tinge of pain that ran through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the robe was cut completely open, and was pushed off of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His skin felt cold, so horribly cold all of a sudden, as he felt the air distinctly upon his frail form.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The knife was abandoned, and his hot, masculine hand instead began to wander over his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a small trail of blood coming from the nick on his nipple, and the man brought his rough tongue to it, following it up to the nipple, and flicking it with his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius hated how his body bucked up at this, how his erection had started to grow. He didn’t like this, he didn’t want this to happen. He wanted it to stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man moved his mouth to the other sensitive, pink spot, and then traveled, exploring the expanse of the consul’s soft skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was going lower, lower, and Valerius went stiff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked out away from his attacker. There were others here. Would no one help him? Some of them even watched!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t look at them, he didn’t want to look. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t let this happen, he had to do something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His back arched upwards as a sharp tug on his throbbing erection brought him to attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man began to pull and jerk it, and each movement wrung a pained noise from Valerius. It was too hard, too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere in all of this, the man had let one of the consul’s wrists go, so that only one was forced still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to think, he had to think.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to stop himself from crying out. This one had been three times harder than the rest, and he forced his teeth into his lips so that he wouldn’t make that noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The knife! Where had the knife gone?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His free hand shifted slightly, moving slowly, trying to feel for the knife. He hoped it would be there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, allowing his clouded eyes to roam over the pale, trembling figure once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>FInally, his fingertips touched something cold, and smooth. It had to have been steel he was feeling. Foolish for the man to forget of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His pumps grew faster and faster, and harder and harder, and as he began to inch the dagger closer to his hand, so he could grasp the handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>FInally! He had it in his palm, but before he could move, a surging, fiery pain filled him, and finally, he cried out, a terrible mix of pain and ecstasy entering him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had cum, and the thick white of it was mixed with the red of his own blood. His body ached, he couldn’t stop shaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man began to undo his pants, and Valerius forgot for a second what he had meant to do. He was so terrified of this man, of the large and hollow pain. No, no, stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wrenched his eyes closed. He didn’t want this. All he could think about was the picture of the ropes of red that had come from him, and all he could hear was the sound of the man’s pants coming undone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, no.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand gripped tighter to the knife. He had forgotten about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All at once, he opened his eyes, and brought the tip of it up to the man’s side, pressing it tightly against the flesh to ensure that he could feel it there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off of me,” he said, his voice quivering, and his throat tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man scowled and glared down at him. He did his pants up again, and slowly, he came off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius stood up, the knife held out in front of him, and began to back up towards the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was bare still. He hadn’t thought to take his torn robe, soiled with spend, with him to cover up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His back hit the door, and he came forward a little, and fumbled with the doorknob, still looking out at everyone. He managed to get the door open, and in one swift movement, was out. He slammed the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dropped the knife immediately. The adrenaline began to wear off, and his head was a vague daze again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night air nipped at his skin, and entered the wound on his nipple and on his neck. His nipples were painfully hard, but he didn’t think about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to walk. He didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he had to go.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Hovel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's that? An ending to a chapter that isn't rushed? We don't know her.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His rapping was strange, and uneven, and frantic, desperate, against the badly-built door that was loose on its hinges, little cracks all over it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The splay of red cum on his naked body had dried, and he was trembling from the terrible cold, and as well from the vague haunting feeling that the ghost of the man lingered upon him still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t meant to come here, to this house. He had come here unconsciously, his mind so incredibly jaded from the alcohol and the nipping frost of the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, just when he was about to give up, the door swung open, and a man peeked his head out and said, “what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius could not respond, so the man in the doorway moved further out and looked the other way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes came to the consul’s bare figure, and his jaw went tense, stiff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valerius.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he recognized him. He hadn’t expected that. Or, at least, he had assumed that he would pretend not to remember him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vilmen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes flitted to the dark red splays and streaks along his body, then to his watery, red eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius dropped his eyes to the floor, and slightly to the right. He shouldn’t have come. He should have toughed it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vilmen looked all around quickly, then scowled, and said, “gods, just come in. Don’t want the neighbors to see me talking to my disgusting whore of a brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned around and disappeared into the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul did not move for a few moments, and then after this pause began to move towards the doorway, where he hesitated for a just a second, then passed the threshold, and closed the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had only spoken a few words to his brother, and already he was beginning to feel a bit more sober.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would invite you to sit, but I don’t want you filthying up anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vilmen sat down on a dark purple armchair, old, and fraying, and clearly inherited from someone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius backed up to the wall that Vilmen was facing and leaned back upon it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are mom and dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His brother stayed silent and looked to his eyes, staring and unwavering, something stiff and terrible in them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Father has died, and mother has locked herself away in his oratory to grieve. Her caretaker tells me she barely eats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s dead? When did this happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vilmen’s eyes narrowed, and he assumed a stone cold glare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two years ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said, looking down at his feet, and frowning just a bit. How long had it been since he had spoken to his brother? To anyone in his family?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long silence in the small hovel, and Valerius looked at anything that he could so that he could avoid the eyes of his sibling. Unfortunately, there was not a lot to look at in the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Vilmen spoke again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to you?” he asked, staring straight at the dried, red cum all over his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul swallowed. It was difficult coming down, his throat all of a sudden feeling tight, as though it had contracted. He didn’t want to answer that question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t look like blood,” he mumbled, cocking his head in thought, and examining it closely, his eyes flitting all over it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If his eyes had thought to travel downwards, he would have seen the damaged cock hanging, a bright burning shade of pink, throbbing, and leaving Valerius with a constant, hollow pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would never let his eyes travel down, though. He may have hated his brother, but he still retained a sense of decency, no matter the situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valerius,” he began, removing his eyes from the red, and turning them up to the eyes of the other, placed away vaguely to the side, “answer me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bit of water began to form in his right eye, and his brother noticed this distinctly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vilmen scowled and rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at you, crying. You’re so pathetic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Real</span>
  </em>
  <span> Faylinn’s never cry. No wonder father always saw you as a disappointment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t really crying, he told himself, he never cried. It was just a moment of weakness. He was not crying. He never cried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That wasn’t his last name. Not anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, and held them shut, hoping that the tears would disappear before they could fall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes opened with a start when he had to catch something made of light fabric that had been thrown at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down at it, and he could see that it was something black, then up at his brother. He didn’t know when Vilmen had gone to retrieve it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at the bunched fabric in the other’s hands, and mumbled something like, “I’m not going to let you stumble around the entire kingdom naked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius unballed it, holding it up by the shoulders, and saw that it was an outer layer of some sort. Not a jacket, more like a thin replica of the dark beige layer he wore over his white robe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and while still looking down at it, he murmured, “thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vilmen scowled again. He scowled a lot. He looked away, to somewhere on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to look at you anymore,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Villy…” the consul began, watching as he stared down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His brother looked up and met his eyes again, and they stared into the consul’s golden ones, and he sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why did you leave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius stiffened and averted his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you loved me, then why did you leave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>noble</span>
  </em>
  <span> brother, abandoned me, abandoned us, and you have the gall to stand before me now and tell me you love me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” he said again, his voice trembling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you. I hate you just as you hated me when you left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never hated you, Vilmen. I loved you. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat down again and turned his head away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought that I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brother, please!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no response, and for the longest time, Valerius stared at his brother, trying to get him to look towards him, hoping that he would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was time for him to leave. He walked silently to the door, and left it. He closed it gently behind him, being so, so careful, thinking if he was even the smallest bit too rough with it, it would fall apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled the covering over himself quickly, the black fabric shining just barely beneath the light of the moon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had begun to feel the effects of the liquor again, only this time much more keenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began all at once to feel something terrible, like someone had set his lungs on fire, and he let out a moan of strife. He leaned against the wall, and clutched his stomach tightly, feeling for a second almost blind, and he became emerged in the pain, and he could not find himself anymore, and he began gasping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know how long it had been, when suddenly, his senses emerged from where they had been, buried somewhere deep beneath that pure, all-encompassing agony, and, as a horrible chill shook his body, he hunched over, and heaved.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The count</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His hands kept fumbling with and coming off the handle. His eyes were wrenched open and focused on this task intently, and yet he couldn’t stop dropping it. He just couldn’t get it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, he decided, I just have to slow it down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slowly reached his hand up to the handle, and very carefully wrapped around it, and he made sure to tighten his fingers, and finally, he got it open.</span>
</p>
<p><span>He pushed his weight back against the door to get it closed.</span> <span> It closed with a large thunk, and all of a sudden, he felt like he had to throw up again.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He shoved the feeling down, and instead began to walk through the room, leaning on things whenever he began to lose his footing, which was much more frequent than he would like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew who he wanted to see. He knew where he wanted to go, now that he was back in the large, enchanting palace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he continued on, he saw a vague picture of some servant or other, but he could barely make out their face. He saw the form turn to look at him, and heard a scoff of some sort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The person left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was lucky that he knew the palace interior so well by then, otherwise, he would never have made it past the opening room in his trance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he came upon the door that he was looking for. Or, at least, he was almost sure that this was the door. He was going purely off of muscle memory and the vague picture of his surroundings that he had managed to hold in his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought of knocking. He should, right? He tried to, but his hand barely hit the surface of the door, making more of a strange tapping noise than a knocking sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite this, the door was opened immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio’s figure was there, and Valerius recognized it, even when he was barely sure of the shape of his own hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The count had not expected for the consul to appear at his door. No, he had been waiting for word from Portia that Valerius had returned, and was sleeping peacefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valerius!” he whispered, as the man in question fell into his arms. He caught him easily, though almost stepped back in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul let out a pained moan, and Lucio could hear the agony laced into the noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” the blonde man asked, looking down at the messy hair, and the strange and minimal clothing, which he was almost sure Valerius did not own, and the way his body seemed so weak and reliant upon Lucio for support.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t say another word, as he allowed his hands to gently guide and support the consul to sit on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, when he was sat, his shaking arms barely supporting him, as he leaned back upon them, Lucio looked down at him, something strange and red peeking out from the loose covering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold tight,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He came to the doorway, and gave one more glance to the man sat on the bed, his beautiful, ombre hair such a mess, and him, so tired, and frail, and even more a mess than it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked out of the room, then, and began to guide himself to the consul’s room. This was easy for him to find, as he had been there enough by now to have a decent idea, though he did have to stop for a few seconds once to remember which path he had to take.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked in, and approached the desk. He bent over, and opened the second last drawer, as he remembered it contained the thing that he was looking for. Inside, the hairbrush was there, and picked it up gently between his pale fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed the drawer, and left again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he came back to his own room, and closed the door behind him, he saw Valerius still in the same position, right in the same spot. He had expected him to be, but it was a gamble nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved on to the bed, sitting behind the consul, and began to brush gently the tips of his hair. It was harder now than it had been before, but he did it meticulously. He didn’t want to hurt Valerius.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do to yourself?” he whispers behind him, his eyes never straying from his task.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know if he would get a response or not. It was fine if he didn’t. He was speaking mostly to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sob wracked the consul’s body, and Lucio pulled the brush away as Valerius hunched over and out his face in his hand. His loud sobs filled the entire room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help himself. He was crying. He hated that he was crying, but he couldn’t stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he could think about was the look on his brother’s face when he saw him, and the terrible feeling of the dried cum on his body, and the foreign feeling of the fabric on his body, and more than this, the man. The man who had done this to him. He felt so dirty, so, so, dirty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Val?” Lucio asked, his voice soft, and full of concern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius could barely register this. He was only thinking about the man. He saw his face still, and he heard the words he said to him. He was replaying the scene in his head, again, and again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed like years of tears had been building up his entire life, and now they were coming out all at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio was having a hard time registering what was happening as well. He had never seen Valerius cry before. He was starting to believe that Valerius simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>cried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something must have been terribly wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” he said, bringing a hand up his shoulder, “you’re alright now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius stiffened when he felt the hand on his body. The tears flowed still, but he made no sound, and his body did not move any longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “please don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio’s eyes widened, and he pulled his hand away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must be so tired,” the count says, looking at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods slowly, strangely, and with that terrible tight feeling in the throat that comes with crying, he manages to choke out, “so, so tired.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can sleep here, on the bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius finally looks at him, and Lucio’s heart breaks when he sees his face. Bright red, tears still welling up in the corners of his eyes. His hair looked so gut-wrenching when it was atop this scene, and the fabric was open, now that his hands were no longer holding it together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The count saw finally what the strange, red thing he had seen a peek of was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to put things together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, god.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost shed a tear at this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“P- Please, sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul turned his body, and laid himself down on his side upon the bed. He looked so uncomfortable as his body began to curl into itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio couldn’t help but wonder if it still hurt.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This actually hurt me to write, I can't-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Luce</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The bed was soft and plushy beneath him, and he turned to his side so that he could curl himself up, and allow the heat of his own body to mix with the light heat of the silk sheets above him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loved the way that it felt on his skin, and the coolness of it soothed his throbbing head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until he took note of the engrossing pain of his head that he began slowly to be aware that his muscles felt tight, and every time he moved, they ached horribly, and he let out a low hiss as he moved his leg just the wrong way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his eyes, but he closed them again quickly, when the too bright sun seemed to set fire to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mouth felt incredibly dry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt something strange and flaky, uncomfortable, on the bottom half of his torso, and on the top half of his thighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t quite recall what it was in the moment, so he didn’t think about it, instead closing his eyes tighter, and trying to focus on falling back asleep instead of the incessant throbbing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard tapping of some sort, but he didn’t bother to check on it.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Valerius?” the voice said, the consul wincing a bit at the sound.</span><span><br/></span> <span>He hummed for a second, not allowing himself to continue on for too long, lest it cause him more pain.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re awake,” Lucio said, standing near the foot of the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius began thinking. Why was Lucio here? Was this his room? He couldn’t remember anything, except that he had left last night, and walked through the city, and after that, nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, some strange little tune came to his mind. He didn’t know exactly where he had heard it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was so worried, last night,” Lucio began, softly, speaking to the consul, but also to himself, “when you were out for so long, and then you came back and you looked like you did. I was so scared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What did he mean?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let his lips part just a bit, and slowly, he asked that very question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of it was barely present, and Lucio barely recognized it as being the voice of the man he had known for so long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t considered that Valerius might not remember what had happened the night before. He forgot that that could happen sometimes, if one drank enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to tell him, or if he should. Wasn’t it better if he didn’t remember? Though, in all honesty, Lucio wasn’t even sure if he had been right in assuming what he had about what happened to Valerius.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need a bath,” he said, for it was the only thing he could think to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bath…” this came out as nothing but a passing murmur, and slowly, his hand came up to the large, flaking patches on his skin. He didn’t know what it was. He managed to get a bit of it, and he brought it up to his eyes, which opened just a peek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a dark, dark, red. Why was it red?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio saw this. He swallowed, but it was hard to. His face was stiff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was it blood? Blood didn’t dry that consistency, or that color, Valerius thought. He didn’t know what it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shot of pain thundered through him all of a sudden, a sharp change to the constant but more medium amounts of pain he had been feeling before. He squeezed his eyes closed again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hardly form anything from the night before. No memories. He tried to remember what he knew about binge drinking, but it was hard, so hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, a bath was what he needed. Perhaps it would help soothe his muscles. He would do anything to ease the pain, if it was possible. And, he hated being dirty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to sit up, and he did so successfully, eventually. Painfully sluggishly, he stood up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't realize that he was naked until he felt a draft upon almost every inch of his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was he nude? He didn’t want to be. Something inside of him was telling him he didn’t want to be, and with every second that he did not move, it grew only bigger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand came near to him, holding something black and almost sheer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius took it, looking up at Lucio, who said, “I had it cleaned for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul did not recognize it, but he knew it must have been his, or the count would not have just said what he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brought it to his face and inhaled deeply through his nose. It was his favorite smell that he found upon it, and he smiled. He didn’t know that Lucio remembered it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Juniper berry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His smile faded quickly as another large shot of pain coursed through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio had a private bath, large and luxurious, but he didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, so, he decided, better to use the communal baths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one else ever seemed to. This was good for him, though. He wanted privacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He unbunched the fabric and looked at it. He couldn’t remember where he had gotten it. He hated to put it on before he bathed, but he did have to put something on for the trek between the room and the baths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put it on one shoulder at a time, making sure to keep his pace slow, to avoid any increased agony from his body, and held it together tightly with one of his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, a bath was what he needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to move to leave, but Lucio called for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” he said, and Valerius turned his head to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The count turned and moved somewhere, before coming back and placing the hairbrush in the consul’s confused hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll need this,” he said, before frowning a bit, and continuing, “you should brush it before you get in the bath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius unconsciously brought a hand to his hair, and his eyes widened a bit, then winced, because the widening motion had caused a sore pain to arise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t feel right, his hair. It had never been that messy before, that full of knots and tangles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Luce.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t meant to use a nickname, and he didn’t even notice that he had used it. He walked to the door, opened it quickly, and left the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio couldn’t help the small smile that worked its way onto his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Luce,” he whispered to himself. He liked it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small golden fly flew quietly into the room, and neared the body of the count, before landing gently on his exposed hand.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh jeez oh no</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The baths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He dipped his toes slowly into the water, testing out the temperature of it and ensuring that it wouldn’t feel too hot upon the incredibly cold patches of skin that he had scrubbed clean beforehand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The baths were steaming, and the scents of various perfumes mixed into some flowery and sugary sweet concoction in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was too hot for him, he decided, but it wasn’t as though he had another choice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lowered himself gently into the large opening, elevated only slightly from the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hissed as the water passed his waist. It felt painful against his raw cock, and it made him so angry that he didn’t know why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had had to clean off the strange, red substance before he could get into the baths, as it was only customary to rid oneself of any major filth before entering, as they were communal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, of course, he had been right that the water would feel extremely hot against these spots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, his feet were upon the ground in the bath, and, half of his torso was submerged fully in the liquid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabbed a large and empty jug beside him, and filled it with water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had taken Lucio’s advice and brushed his hair out fully before he had come. He would have done so either way, as it was just the best thing to do, and he always did it, but he told himself it was Lucio’s advice, because it changed the principle of the thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never understood why the water was always hot. It wasn’t good for his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took the jug and held it just above the front of his head, pouring some down over a small section of his hair, starting from the right, and moving slowly over to the left, until he had poured water over all of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He repeated this again twice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hair felt thick, heavy, when it was full of water. His hair was long, so very long, and he knew that a decent amount of it was floating freely on the surface of the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his hands once over the surface of his hair, so that the stray hairs were removed from his face, and back again with the whole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set the jug on the rim of the bath, where it had been before, and picked up instead one of three containers that he had picked out beforehand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Juniper berry was his favorite scent, yes, but he used oil of bergamot in his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was what he poured out into his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to use a lot, for his hair was not only long, but decently thick, full, as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to massage the oil into his roots, working his way down slowly, and every once in a while pouring just a bit more out from the container.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he reached the tips of his hair, which he had pulled out of the water long since, and applied it to these too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, he was to wash his body, before he could rinse it out and then apply the almond oil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set the container aside, and picked up the second one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he began to clean his body, the tune he had been thinking of before came back to him. It was a bit clearer now, but still rather vague and directionless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed it, as he worked, and his eyebrows knit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t something he could imagine hearing in the palace, certainly, and it wasn’t something he remembered from years ago. He must have heard it in the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the heavy alcohol was working on his brain still, and as he had consumed a lot of it, it could be possibly even days before his brain was able to form those memories.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed. The hot water helped sooth his aching muscles after all. He had been right about that. They were throbbing, yes, but not in such a way as to be a nuisance, once one got used to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, he saw a drop of something fall down into the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another drop fell, and then another, and another. With every drop that fell, the next came quicker, until soon it morphed into a small, constant dream of liquid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He backed away from it, his back hitting the side of the bath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was that same, glowing, gold liquid that he had seen in the hallway, coming from a crack in the roof.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gold dispersed in the water, thinning out and disappearing into the clear pools.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only, as the stream became thicker, it began to dye the water a light yellow, and the bath was becoming fuller, and fuller.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius didn’t like this. He hated this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked straight up , and there too, as there had been in the hallway, was a large crack in the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only this one was growing just a bit bigger with every minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to get out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated that he was submerged in water tainted with that liquid. Everything in his body was screaming at him not to touch it anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As fast as he could, he came out the side of the bath, and slowly, the golden-tinted water, the foreign color growing stronger now, though still very weak, began to creep over the edges of the bath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He backed away from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trickle of the liquid kept growing, only it was growing faster now, and his eyes widened as much as they could, and he finally turned around and walked away from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He retrieved the black covering, and pulled it over his body. He didn’t care that his body was still wet, or that he hadn’t finished bathing. He just had to get out of there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he almost ran out of the room, he spared one last quick glance behind him. Gold, so much gold, and it was overflowing so much. A stream came now into the bath, and it would only be a few minutes before it spread to some of the other baths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His pace quickened to a run.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of a sudden, he hated gold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The image of Nadia, at the head of the table, who he had not seen since then, with her terrible, burning, fully golden eyes, came to his mind then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, he needed to leave.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I almost didn't post today. I was like, hey, cliffhanger for once! But every single time I finish writing a chapter, I absolutely have to post it immediately or my brain shuts down.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His eyes were wrenched open widely, full of shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t- but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The servant shot him a disdainful glare, to show him how angry they were at being brought here with such alarm for no reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were back in the baths. He had needed to tell someone, but he didn’t know who. Lucio wouldn’t do anything, and he couldn’t speak to Nadia. He couldn’t find Portia, and he was low on time, so he had pulled to him a random servant, and brought them here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, everything was normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no crack in the ceiling, no golden-tinted overflowing water, no stream of golden liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was just the baths, with the jug and containers where he had left them, though knocked on their side, and an annoyed servant beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other person left, huffing something or other about Valerius being entitled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The consul did not move. His fingers twitched, and he did not blink. He controlled his breathing, so incredibly conscious of each inhale, and each exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he going crazy? It couldn’t have been an effect of the hangover, he thought, because he had seen the liquid dripping from the roof a few days before, when he was not intoxicated or hungover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going crazy, then. Stress, maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, stress, that was it. He was stressed, seeing things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he just needed to sleep, and when he woke, he would be fine. And, he knew that sleep would help with the hangover as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep. It couldn’t hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, in that moment, the cool draping of the imported fabrics on his body sounded heavenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he slept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slept through the day, and he slept through the night as well. A strange, quiet, and yet not peaceful, sort of sleep. A dreamless one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, the next morning, when he woke, and came to breakfast, he saw Nadia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And only Nadia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without so much as addressing the countess, he looked simply to his empty spot, and then straight at her and asked, “where is Lucio?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up to him, with her vacant, shining eyes, and smiled a thin, terrible smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has fallen ill. Deathly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B- but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cocked her head, stiffly, her smile growing bigger still, and she said, “It’s not a shock to you, surely. You, who always said that ‘It was only a matter of time before his rashness and incompetence caught up to him.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I know, b- but-” he closed his eyes tightly to help him think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what does that have to do with anything? Rashness and incompetence don’t put a person in a sickbed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how it was possible that her smile grew bigger, and yet, it happened clearly for him to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I suppose they don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t like this. This was different from how he had seen her before. Before, she had been like herself when she was younger, or what he had heard of her younger self, just, crueler. Now, she wasn’t her. He didn’t know what this was. He didn’t like this at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know something,” he said, his voice shaking, “don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile grew smaller, though didn’t fade, into a self-satisfied sort of smirk, like someone who knew that they had won.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like someone who knew that they had won.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nadia looked at him vaguely, that same smirk still on her face, and she waved to the chair he normally sat at. There was no plate there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to obey her, but he sat anyway, though hesitantly, because he felt simply like there was nothing else that he could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks in the general direction of a bit to the side of straight in front of her, waving her hand about lazily, and says, “if you’re alive, but you know you’re going to die soon, will you grieve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks about this. He shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said, dropping her hand to the table, her smirk growing bigger, “the conscious mind does not grieve for itself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?” he asks, rather impatiently. He didn’t want this interaction to be any more prolonged than it needed to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared at him, her eyebrows tilting in rage and her eyes glowing a bit brighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” she begins, “the soul grieves for its body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what does that mean?” he asked, holding his face in his hands, his eyelids squeezing down so hard together it almost hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffs and looks away from him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you that much of a fool, that I am forced to tell you in the simplest terms conceivable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, maybe he was a fool. A fool for so many things, some that he couldn’t even remember at the moment, because the alcohol was still working on his brain, a fool for thinking that golden liquid could ever fall from the roof, a fool for thinking that he should listen to Nadia, and a fool for not listening to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A soul is not good,” she said, “not like people think. A soul is a demon of your own creation, and all that holds it back is the conscious mind’s control over the body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that he could respond to this was, “so you’ll die? He’ll die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked into his eyes. Or, she would have, if he hadn’t covered them with his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But- but- you, Nadia, you’re healed, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He asked this, knowing from her searing gold eyes that it wasn’t true. She was cured of her weakness, but she was not healed. He knew it was not true, but he asked because he felt that if he didn’t he might go insane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not respond for the longest while, simply looking down at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are seven stages of grief,” she said, “but the soul can never make it all the way to acceptance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head very slowly, her gaze upon him softening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, the soul cannot accept.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I deserve a PHD in big brain from I'm-a-smart-man university.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Vein</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“U- Wh- Absolutely not, absolutely not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing a bright red, and the bottom outward corners of his eyes were twitching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just a suggestion!” Lucio says, his grin wide and toothy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll- why I’ll-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to threaten a sick man? Surely, you wouldn’t stoop so low?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him at the dramatic and over exaggerated hand motions that accompanied this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d happily threaten a sick man if he was as infuriating as you,” Valerius began, before saying, with the largest smile on his face, “you absolute nuisance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Lucio brings the back of his hand up to his forehead dramatically and closes his eyes, “I am hurt so deeply, I feel as though I might faint,” he says, and falls back on the bed, his hand still upon his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my!” Valerius says, with a playful alarm, “I have slain the dragon with my words! Whoever shall I fight now? Dreadful mistake, just dreadful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio shoots back up to a sitting position and says, “the dragon? Sir, I am offended,” he starts, an equally playful tone entering his strained throat, “I am clearly the brave and noble knight, and you are the dragon, who has killed me with your fiery words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that is truly preposterous, dear sir, for brave and noble are surely not words that could describe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The both of them were speaking in a mock posh tone, hence the strange way that their sentences were formed, and truly, it was adorable, and Valerius found himself having fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I would not be so sure in this commandment of yours, mine friend, for I believe that there are many who would describe me with these very such words, and I have earned these titles in battle!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, tut tut dear man, brave and noble on the battlefield do not equate to a brave and noble person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would ask you not to ‘tut tut’ at me, lest you explain the difference, for I do not trust you on this very matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius feigns an exaggerated gasp, and says, “but sir! I am nothing if not trustworthy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio crosses his arms and begins to shake his head, “exactly what someone untrustworthy would say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but also what someone trustworthy would say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and brings his hand to his chin as though in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, you’re not wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius closed his eyes, cocked his head, and hummed in approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In truth, as much as he was enjoying himself in this exchange with the count, he was incredibly worried nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The count was talking as though he was unaffected by the sickness, but if the consul listened closely, he could hear the same strains and pains in it as he had heard in Nadia’s voice when she was in the same state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius couldn’t figure out why Lucio was trying to hide his pain from him. Did he want him to think he was strong? Did he want him to think his condition was better than it really was?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. Imagine that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to test the waters in the dip of conversation that had taken over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling, Lucio?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile faded just a bit at this topic, but it was there still, and Valerius wasn’t sure if it was there for his sake, or there simply because Lucio wanted it to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m feeling the same as I’ve felt all morning, and the same as I felt yesterday, and yesterday’s morning as well. I’m fine, simply. I’ve been better, but I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The consul wasn’t sure if this was the truth or not. He hated that in this moment he wasn’t sure about so many things, but, he was glad at least that Lucio appeared to be decently alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He understood finally what Lucio had meant when he said that he couldn’t bear to see Nadia like that, weak. He didn’t know if he could bear to see Lucio weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long silence overtook the room. Too long, too long. He didn’t know exactly how many minutes had passed when finally, he decided to speak, because finally, he had figured out what it was that he wanted to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius continued, “I don’t like you. You are vain, and narcissistic, and destructive, and frankly, mean. But, to love something truly is to be cognizant of all its flaws and love it all the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile grew large once again, only this time, it was almost a smirk, and he said, “you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tone in his voice reminded Valerius of the last conversation he had had with Nadia, a few days ago, only this time, it wasn’t smug. It was a man who had won, and he hadn’t been expecting to. Happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius glanced to the side and mumbled, “yeah, that’s what I said. I said other things too, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio laughed an excited sort of laugh, and he held the consul’s hands and he said, “you love me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The consul went stiff, and he pulled his hands back from the grasp.</span>
</p><p> <span>“Ah, sorry,” the count said, moving back a bit to where he was before.</span></p><p>
  <span>Valerius did not respond. He wasn’t sure how to. He rubbed his wrist gently with the pad of the other hand’s thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Lucio went on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile graced the consul’s features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back to the count, and they made eye contact. He felt if they kept making this same eye contact, he might explode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked towards the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared for you, Luce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Why? Think I can’t handle myself against a little sickness? I thought you knew me better than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t it, he wanted to say. He was scared that he would change, like Nadia did, he wanted to say. He thought he shouldn’t say these things, though. So, he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” he began, trailing off, and allowing the hints of a smile to play on his features, “I suppose you’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that this was a show for the sake of the other, but he didn’t know if Lucio knew this. He didn’t want him to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His toothy grin returned, and he flexed one of his arms, the one of flesh, and said, “my body is undefeatable, impenetrable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerius thought, for just a moment, that he saw one of the veins in his arm shine the shade of gold. The illusion was gone quickly, however, and it was simply a light, faded blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the smile came to his face finally, “impenetrable.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, I love them, and, everything after this? Will hurt my heart.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Oh?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>So, he had been lying after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius should have known it would be like this. All of a sudden, he was regretting the elegantly-crafted and slightly flashy outfit he had tailored for the event. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The “gathering” had come to fruition after all, following Lucio’s “recovery.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, of course, the consul had been right in his assuming that it would be just the same as any of the count’s overdone, over-crowded balls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was standing simply near the wall, somewhere in the middle of the large room, looking around himself with caution, listening, and every once in a while moving a few paces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had been offered various alcohols, but he had taken none of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would never drink alcohol again. Not after last time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so wary, so wary of all of the people talking and laughing and dancing around him, too, too many people, and he was wary as well that he may be found by Lucio.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankly, though he hated to admit it, he was afraid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t seen Lucio at all in the past three days, when Portia mentioned to him in excitement that the count had made a miraculous recovery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew what that meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, he had avoided him at all costs. This was difficult, you understand, as Lucio often wandered into the consul’s bedroom, meaning that simply hiding himself away in there was not a viable option.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, he had had to dance a tireless dance around the palace almost all of the time, desperately trying to avoid the count without ever even knowing what the other man’s position was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had shown to the gathering simply because Nadia had come to him the morning of Lucio’s recovery, awakening, and told him that he must.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, he had followed her orders, assuming that the count had told him a terrible lie when first the party was mentioned, and of course, he had been correct.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A servant passed by, then stopped and held his tray out to him, “wine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head turned swiftly to them, and he eyes the glasses with a terrible thing bordering on fear, and he gulped down a pocket of air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t like it here. He didn’t feel safe. Too many people. People. Was that man looking at him? Lord, he had to get away somehow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Get a grip of yourself, you dolt, no one is looking at you!’ he thought, his eyes darting all around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped back a bit nearer towards the wall, and tried to calm himself down. The spike in his anxiety had come quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This had happened several times that night alone. Always preceded by the offering of liquor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just needed to calm down. Focus on something singular and force it to take over his thoughts completely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Think of a rose, perhaps. This was the first idea that crossed his mind. A rose. No. No roses. No roses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not a warm bath, not a soothing glass of wine, not even, any longer, laying in a bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing for him to think about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The noise in the room grew a few times louder as all of the people surrounding him began to clamor over the body of Lucio as he walked into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius couldn’t help but looking at him. He didn’t want to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was something wrong with this picture, he realized. It was not the swagger or gait of the man reveling in a party, simply a straight walk, steady, smooth, too smooth. Calculated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a large smile on his face as he looked towards and interacted with all of the various peoples surrounding him, and the consul thought he would be safe to slip away while he was distracted with this small gathering around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio stopped walking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was all at once, this stop, so strange, unnatural.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head turned quickly to the consul, and his smile grew wider, yet thinner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He approached Valerius, and he felt like he needed to go. To run away. What would happen if he did?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, then again, what would happen if he didn’t?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consul, you came!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His spine stiffened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He became acutely aware of the music which was entering his mind, the music coming vaguely from one of the other, larger rooms, and he couldn’t help but feel that it sounded familiar. Where had he heard that music before?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said, “I came.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People may not have been looking at him before, but that was of no importance, for they were looking at him now. Looking at him because of the count.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After your absence from me these past days I was beginning to worry,” Lucio began, the same height as Valerius and yet managing still to loom over him, “that you had been avoiding me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The consul could not help but back up closer to the wall. He needed to create more space between him and the count. However, it seemed that Lucio had counted on this, and moved forward at a pace that meant that Valerius was never farther away from him than he had been originally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would have no reason to do any such thing,” the consul said, unsure of his words and yet pouring into them the stern confidence that he usually held. He didn’t want Lucio to know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you seen Nadia? She must be around here somewhere,” Val continued, changing the subject in the hopes that Lucio would find some interest in this and leave to look for the countess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The count leaned forward toward him, closing the little space there, and Valerius tried stepping back, but, he couldn’t. The wall hit him, and he became acutely aware of the unmoving mass that it was. He could not feel the texture or the temperature of it through the fabric on his body, but he was so glad for that fact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All between them was silent as Lucio brought his golden palm up, and ran the claw of his thumb over the consul’s lips. Too hard. It hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stop. Get away from me. Please, get away from me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius was about to push him away, off of him, his body trembling, remembering too terribly, too vividly a scene it did not want to remember, when suddenly, Lucio moved away from him, enough to provide between them the distance of a normal conversation, and he said, “have you had any wine yet, consul?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no wine,” he said, his eyes glued to the blonde-haired man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio did not say a word, and instead moved his eyes somewhere off to the side, searching, quickly, flittingly, and without so much as a movement or word from him, a servant came quickly, with an all-too-familiar tray of wine and glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius noted that he had not seen this servant pass by before. Not in this room, at least. Where had he been? Had he not been walking around?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was he waiting for something?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the consul had been lost in his thoughts, Lucio had already grabbed the bottle, and had begun pouring two glasses of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were full, very full. Overly so. Why?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Lucio said, handing him one of the wine glasses, thick with liquid, grasping the other one tightly in his golden hand, and giving a glance to the servant that was meant to dismiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius did not speak as he took the thing from the other man’s hands. He would not drink it, he swore that he could not, but he could not refuse to take the glass from the count.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps noticing the vague and distant eyes of the consul, lost in thought, Lucio began, “surely to share a drink with your superior is not a matter of much debate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius looked into his eyes finally. Lucio had never referred to himself as his superior before, except to win petty little arguments or playfights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll excuse me, I’ve simply become repulsed by liquor recently. I could not drink this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucio’s face held no smile, on his mouth, or in his eyes, his golden eyes, as he looked at Valerius, with something resembling a sullen menace, and he said, “you’d refuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Count Lucio, it has nothing to do with you, it is si-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerius stiffened. He gulped, the action feeling so hard and distinct in his mouth, his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, you don’t understa-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I order you, drink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tone in his voice was so present, so utterly there, and it rocked Valerius to his very core. He did not want to do what it said, but, he did not want to find out what would happen if he did not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down to the overly full glass he held precariously in his hand, his fingers wrapped tightly around it in a manner they were so unaccustomed to. As though they were holding on for dear life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand began to shake, and he brought it slowly up to his mouth, where, he parted his lips ever so gently, his hand quaking now even more, even his lips beginning to tremble, and he took a drink.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HnnGgG I am so sorry I haven't updated for two or three days I have been so busy I haven't had time,, I am so sorry,, Please forgive me I'll be consistent again after this I swear</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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